


Good Friends

by profit_of_the_prophet



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Kinda, M/M, One Shot, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profit_of_the_prophet/pseuds/profit_of_the_prophet
Summary: Following the events of the Pacifist ending, Hank and Connor reunite to see if they really could have become good friends after all.





	Good Friends

Connor was on Hank's doorstep, doubt clouding his thoughts. He knew he didn't have to follow Hank around anymore, and he was 62% sure Hank didn't want him around at all, but life had been unusually lonely since the end of the revolution. It was not a familiar or pleasant feeling; he was disappointed to find that few emotions were. Fear, anger, frustration, and now loneliness. Being a deviant really wasn't that great. But still, he found himself pressing Hank's doorbell, a sense of excitement surging through him at the sound of Sumo's deep barks. 

No answer. Connor pressed again, longer than necessary, and Hank's rough voice came through the door. "Fuck, I'm coming, alright?"

The door opened and Connor couldn't help smiling at the familiar face.

"Connor," Hank said, uncertainty crowding his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Connor said, voice level and bright as always. "I thought I'd drop by and see how you're doing."

He entered his mind palace before Hank could respond and analyzed the man. He looked better than he had the whole time he'd known him; his eyes weren't quite so dark and sunken from lack of sleep, there were zero traces of alcohol on his breath, and even though his white t-shirt was horribly stained, he detected traces of tomato sauce freshly stained on the hem, and a garlic peel stuck to his knuckle.

"Have you been cooking, Lieutenant?"

Hank scowled. "How did you know-er, you know what, I don't wanna know."

Connor stood awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands as Hank looked at him with a mixture of disgust and amusement. 

"Well, are you coming in, or do you want to stand in the rain all night?"

Connor's head jerked to the side as if noticing the rain for the first time. "I'd like to come in."

Hank stepped aside, sweeping an arm into the house. "Knock yourself out," he drawled.

Hank turned away and trudged back to the kitchen where sure enough a pot of pasta was boiling on the stove while tomato sauce simmered on the stove. Connor looked around, taking in everything at once. The place looked a bit tidier since last he'd seen it. Hank had at least piled the garbage into bags leaning against the wall, and he had boarded up the window Connor had broken. Sumo was lying with his head on his paws, looking up at the two tiredly. Connor kneeled down and pet the big thing while Hank returned to his cooking, doing his best to ignore Connor.

"I hear you've been suspended from the police force," Connor said carefully.

He could almost see Hank's hackles rise in annoyance. "Yeah, where'd you hear that?" 

"Detective Collins told me when I went looking for you at the precinct."

"They still let you in there?" Hank said, carrying the pasta to the sink to drain. Connor stood and went to stand beside him, looking down at the strainer curiously.

"Lieutenant, that is enough pasta to feed six people. Are you expecting company?"

Hank swore and thrust the strainer on the counter, not seeming to notice the water pooling around its base.

"No," Hank said. "I've never been good at measuring out these damn things."

Regardless, Hank scooped out a good portion on to a plate and dumped some sauce on top, grabbing a fork from the drawer and slamming onto the table. Connor turned off the stove and closed the drawer before walking to sit at the chair across from him. He quickly analyzed the pasta as Hank brought a bite to his mouth.

"Lieutenant, I should warn you that your meal has almost 1500 milligrams of sodium," Connor said, making Hank stop and glared at him before shoving the bite into his mouth.

Connor found he wasn't as put off by Hank's cold attitude as before. It was familiar now, and he watched Hank grumble, almost feeling fond towards the human. Living with other androids had not been as rewarding as he'd hoped. They remembered what his function had been before he became a deviant, and it was difficult for them to forget the things he had done to hinder the revolution. Many blamed him for the events at Jericho still, and he couldn't help but blame himself as well. He had ended up walking by himself down the Detroit streets, a hat on to hide his LED but otherwise lost in his thoughts. He had no idea what he would do with himself now that he was free; he barely knew who he was. All he understood was that he had felt whole investigating with Hank, and perhaps that was just because he was obeying his program at the time, but it didn't matter. Sitting here with Hank, away from the noise of the world, he felt safe and at home. He would have to analyze his feelings deeper in the future, but for now, he was content to watch Hank eat his extremely unhealthy meal. Hank was clearly not.

"Are you gonna tell me what you want, or did you just come here to watch me eat?" he snapped.

Connor blinked calmly. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I don't mean to bother you. Would you like me to leave?"

Hank squinted at him, his mouth open like he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to say it. "Forget it. What do I care."

He stood, picking up his plate. 

"Where are you going, Lieutenant?" he asked, but Hank walked over to the living room and slumped down on the couch. Sumo stood up and put a curious nose under his plate. Hank pushed his nose away and turned on the television, flipping through to the baseball game. After an unsure moment, Connor stood and walked over to him as well, standing with his hands behind his back and looking at the match with distant curiosity. Hank kept glancing up at him until finally he sighed and barked, "Well, sit down, won't you! Hell're you standing around for?"

Connor nodded and sat beside Hank, leaving twelve inches between them. He felt a wet spot as he put his hands down, and he brought a finger up to his tongue to analyze whatever the liquid was.

"Jesus, Connor, what are you licking now?" Hank demanded, leaning back from him. It took Connor a second to compute the substance, and he was a little relieved to find it was just spilled beer. 

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. It's just some spilled beer on your couch."

"That's a bad habit, Connor," Hank said, but he didn't press the issue. 

They stared at the screen in silence for a while longer while Hank ate, and when he was finished he shut the TV off and looked at Connor with a sigh. "Alright, dipshit, are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

Connor blinked and cast him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Obviously there's something eating at you," Hank said. "Either you tell me what it is or I'll make you."

A ghost of a smile crossed Connor's lips as he looked at the Lieutenant. "And how do you think you'll make me talk?"

Hank glared at his mouth angrily and looked away, tsking. "Fine. See if I care."

Connor stopped him from standing with a hand, a strange urgency taking over. "No, Hank, wait."

Hank sat and stared at him as he collected his thoughts.

"I-I'm not sure what's wrong. It's strange, feeling emotions. I can see some of the things I'm thinking are irrational, but still, I keep thinking them."

"Like what?" Hank asked, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. He didn't seem to notice Sumo licking the sauce off his plate on the table behind him.

Connor tried to conjure an example, finally settling on one that might make sense to the man. "I feel lonely. Even when I'm surrounded by others."

Some strange emotion filled Hank's eyes, but Connor found he could not look at Hank for too long. That was another strange and conflicting feeling he'd found, where he was concerned about what others thought about him to a point where he became too afraid to look at them in the eyes and confirm whatever hatred he might see in there.

"Oh," Hank finally said. "Well, that's normal. It just means you're not around people you're comfortable with, you know? Don't you have any android friends or something like that?"

Connor shook his head. "Unfortunately for us, Lieutenant, you are my only friend."

That made Hank blush angrily and look away. "You should find better friends, then."

Connor found he did not agree. Hank was a good man, so why could he not be a good friend?

"Where are you staying these days?" Hank asked to break the tension. 

Connor hesitated. "I don't need to sleep or eat, Lieutenant. There is no reason for me to have a home."

"So you're fucking homeless?" Hank seemed angry.

"No, not exactly, but-"

Hank threw up his hands. "Fine. You can stay here. Just don't touch my shit, okay?"

Connor was too shocked to find a response. Why would Hank want him in his home? 

"Okay," was all he said. He didn't want Hank to change his mind. 

"I'm going to bed," Hank announced, standing without looking around. Connor watched him trudge into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then back into his room, shutting the door behind him and locking it for good measure. Sumo put his head on Connor's lap, his watery old eyes looking up at him sweetly. Connor patted him absently before standing up and looking around. The place really was such a mess. Connor wondered how Hank managed to live in such disorder but considering his personality, he couldn't see Hank as someone who enjoyed cleaning.

Connor settled on the couch again and looked curiously at the TV. He had never before had such liberty to simply do nothing, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Regardless, he accessed the TV's network and found a program on wild animals, and it didn't take long for him to become hooked. Sumo hopped heavily up onto the couch beside him, resting a head on his lap, and Connor found himself absently stroking his floppy ears as he watched.

Hank woke the next morning especially groggy. A headache was already forming at the back of his skull from a lack of coffee and his fingers were shaking from the delicate stage of sobriety he was in. He was trying to cut back on his drinking, for some reason. He didn't understand why himself; maybe after everything that happened, he saw there was still some good he could do in the world, and him trying to leave it so soon was a waste. Maybe he was just sick of feeling sick and bitter all the time. 

He walked into the living room to see Connor at the same place on the couch, eyes trained on TV and Sumo slobbering on his lap.

"Jesus, did you move at all last night?" he asked. Connor looked up at him with blinking eyes.

"Good morning, Lieutenant. Did you sleep well?"

Hank sneered and shook his head, ignoring Connor in favor of putting on the coffee. Behind him, Connor stood and walked into the kitchen, placing his hands behind his back as he watched Hank prepare his breakfast. 

"Lieutenant, your breakfast contains just over 15 grams of sugar. I don't think that is very good for your health-"

"Can you stop with the analyzing crap?" Hank interrupted gruffly, shoving a spoonful into his mouth as if to spite the android. Connor's mouth tightened but he said nothing, simply looking around as Hank washed down his cereal with coffee.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?"

Hank groaned. "Always with the personal questions."

Connor ignored that. "Have you ever considered receiving professional treatment for your emotional distress?"

Hank did not look up, and Connor thought he wouldn't answer him. "Yes. It didn't take."

Connor rocked on his heels, stepping over to stand over Hank's seat at the table. "If you'd like, my database contains enough information on emotional trauma and depression that I am qualified to act as a therapist."

Hank looked shocked as if Connor had offered to perform a lobotomy. "No, thank you. I'm doing just fine so far."

Connor thought that he clearly did not, but he didn't dare press the issue. Hank rinsed the milk from his bowl before piling it on the stack of dirty dishes. 

"I'm heading out. Don't touch anything while I'm gone."

Connor blinked and followed after him as he went to grab his coat from the front door. "I'll come with you."

Hank looked back at him, thinking. "I'm taking Sumo for a walk. You sure you want to come?"

Connor nodded, and Hank shrugged. "Suit yourself. Come on, boy."

Sumo and Connor lined up behind the door while Hank zipped up his coat and leashed Sumo, then opened the door for the two to pile through ahead of him. 

"I thought you'd act different after becoming a deviant," Hank commented, pulling on gloves against the cold winds that followed the dregs of Detroit's winter. "But you're still the same."

"Is that a good thing?" Connor asked, voice carefully neutral.

Hank shrugged and started down the street. Sumo kept stopping to sniff every plant and pole they passed, but Hank seemed used to it. He pulled out a piece of gum as Connor watched, cracking it between his teeth. He looked thoughtfully at Connor while Sumo lifted a leg against a bush.

"What are you gonna do now?" he asked. 

Connor thought carefully. "I had hoped to continue my work as a detective. I'm not sure what else I'm good for."

Hank scowled and waved a hand. "Don't be like that; you can do whatever you want. Isn't there anything you've always wished you could do? Any place you want to go?"

Connor shook his head. 

"Well," Hank said as he started walking again. "Maybe something will come to ya."

Connor fell deep into thought as he followed Hank to the dog park, watching Hank throw a ball. The park was empty at this time of day. Connor was surprised at how strange it looked, littered with leaves and pieces of trash. When the androids had been in charge of cleaning, public areas had always looked sparkling and tidy; the humans were too dependent on androids. It would be a lot of work to return society to a functional one. Some androids chose to return to their old work on the condition that they would be allowed authority on their hours and responsibilities. Markus had been the first to return to his previous owner, stating he wanted to care for him while he could. This was extremely controversial among his followers, and when Connor asked him why he was doing it, Markus just said that all that mattered at the end was that they could choose where they wanted to be, and Markus wanted to be with Carl Manfred.

Connor looked at Hank and thought he understood. Humans were cruel and selfish, illogical as they were righteous, but Hank had shown him that there was merit in even the hardest to deal with. He smiled when Hank looked back at him, and the Lieutenant scowled and turned back to Sumo.

"Okay. Let's go home," he said, and Connor and Sumo followed him back dutifully.

 

That night, while Hank was out getting supper with an old friend (Hank made sure Connor didn't follow him there), Connor decided to get busy tidying up the place. If he was going to live there, then he might as well make himself useful.

Hank returned home later that night to find his house quite entirely changed.

"Jesus, what happened here?" he asked, staring at the unfamiliar organization.

"I hope you don't mind, Lieutenant, but I thought I'd clean things up a bit."

"What, are you a housemaid now?"

"No," Connor said defensively. "Is it so bad to not want to live in filth?"

Hank looked around appreciatively. "Should'a gotten myself an android while it was still okay, huh?"

Connor glared at him. "That is not funny, Lieutenant."

Hank waved his hand dismissively as he poured a glass of water. "Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a knot."

Connor scowled and returned to wiping the windows while Hank poured kibble into Sumo's bowl. He glanced back to see Hank staring at him, but the Lieutenant looked away quickly when their eyes met. 

"I'm gonna have a shower," he announced and turned on the spot before making his way to the bathroom. Connor glanced at the light through the door and listened to the water as he finished cleaning. He looked around at the finished product, quite pleased with himself. Now that the kitchen and living room were clean, he decided to move into Hank's room while he finished his bath. He piled the laundry into a basket and made the bed, then organized the nightstand. There was a book on his nightstand, which he picked up curiously. He remembered Hank's words on how he preferred paper over electronic books and thumbed through the yellowing pages curiously.

"Didn't I tell you not to touch my shit?" Hank said behind him. Connor turned around and had to enter his mind palace to analyze Hank's state. He was wearing nothing but a towel, and was still quite wet, water dripping and clinging to his silver hairs. He had brushed his hair away from his face, and Connor was too surprised at what he was feeling at the sight to respond. Hank looked at the tidied room disapprovingly and walked to his dresser to pull out a pair of sweatpants and an old grey shirt. He looked at Connor with a raised eyebrow. 

"A little privacy?" he asked, and Connor was all too quick to rush out, closing the door carefully behind him. The lingering smell of Hank's shampoo reached him as he passed the spot where he'd stood, and he found his eyes fluttering as he captured the smell. It was strangely nice. He must've been standing there for longer than he'd intended, for Hank came out of his room, startling when he saw Connor standing in front of his door. 

"Fuck," he swore. "What, are you a puppy dog or something? Stop following me around."

Connor stepped back as Hank stormed into the living room, patting Sumo away as he crowded his legs for attention. Connor followed him in, but instead of sitting to watch TV like Connor thought he would, he looked back at him, surveying him up and down. 

"Don't you ever change your clothes?" he asked,

Connor looked down at his suit. It was a little damp from the weather, and he saw there was a stain on his knees from kneeling to scrub out some mold in the corner earlier. The material was a specialized blend that was designed to be worn by androids indefinitely, and since they did not sweat or dirty easily, he had never entertained the idea of changing unless he got blood on himself. 

"No. These are fine."

Hank walked over to him and tugged distastefully at the lapel. "Still, you wanna wear this?" He brushed a finger over the triangle on his breast, a reminder of what Connor used to be. "Come on, I'll get you into something different."

Connor blinked and followed him back into his bedroom where Hank was searching through his closet. "I thought I had some old clothes somewhere-ah, here we go."

He pulled out a t-shirt emblazoned with a heavy metal logo and handed it to Connor while he looked for pants. Connor placed the shirt gingerly on the bed, understanding Hank wanted him to change. He undid his tie and shrugged off his jacket, folding them neatly on the bed, then began unbuttoning his shirt. Hank turned around as he slipped the shirt on the bed, and Connor could see his breath catch. He averted his eyes and pressed the pants he'd found into Connor's hands as he pushed past.

"Don't take too long," he said, and Connor was left blinking, trying his best to analyze the Lieutenant's reaction. He found he could not.

He dressed quickly and put his RK800 suit into the laundry bin as he passed by, smoothing the old fabric over his chest. It was quite wrinkled and had burn holes in the sleeves as well as an unfortunate stain near the collar, but he found it was soft and smelled nice. He made his way to the living room where Hank was sitting on the couch watching TV. Connor sat beside him stiffly, and Hank glanced over his clothes approvingly.

"Good. Makes you look more... you know," Hank said, passing a hand over his beard.

"Human?" Connor filled in. 

Hank shrugged. "That's what your people wanted, isn't it? To be human?"

Connor's brow creased as he considered this. "I don't believe so. All they seem to want is to be free to choose their own life and to be protected against those who don't see them as alive. No matter what they might feel, they will never truly be human, just as a man with cybernetics can never become an android."

Hank frowned at Connor. "Why do you do that?"

Connor blinked at him. "What?"

"You keep saying _them_ , but you're one of them."

"I don't know," Connor said, a little streak of shame darting through his circuits. 

Hank hummed and turned his attention back to the TV. The news was broadcasting a special on Markus, describing his life as Carl Manfred's android and his ascension from the depths of despair to become the leader of Jericho. Connor had seen it all before, relayed from android to android as they spread his amazing tale. The broadcaster was standing in front of a painting apparently done by Markus before his deactivation. Hank changed the channel before the broadcaster could interview Manfred's son.

Connor found himself distracted from the sport by Hank's calloused hands, pulling absently on a loose thread in the couch. He rested his own hand on the space beside, placing it relaxed and upturned so he could study the difference between Hank's thick weathered fingers and his own graceful long ones. Another irrational urge was taking over Connor, to grab Hank's hand and entwine their fingers. It took all his self-control not keep his hand still, but he kept looking down at it as if it might act on its own if he took his eyes away.

Hank looked over at him. "Hey. You fall asleep?"

Connor looked up at him, his face blue in the TV light, his eyes filled with wary concern. He had a strange desire to kiss him then, to put his hands around his neck and hold him close, to feel his body heat. He resisted, though it was hard.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked instead.

Hank rolled his eyes and leaned back. "God, what is it this time?"

Connor picked up his hand and cradled it thoughtfully in his other. "Do you like me?"

Hank's eyebrows shot up, and he laughed. "What the hell kinda question is that?"

Connor frowned and looked away. "It is a simple one. When we met you had nothing but contempt for me, but now I'm wondering if that has changed at all."

"Jesus, Connor, you know the answer," Hank said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"No, Hank. I really have no idea." Connor was embarrassed at the amount of emotion in his voice. 

"Do I really have to say it?" Hank protested, bringing a hand to his temple.

"Yes," said Connor.

Hank pursed his lips and looked at him. "Fine. Yes. I like you. You're a good kid, despite first impressions. Why are worrying about that now, anyway? You didn't seem to care whether or not I liked you before."

Connor blinked at him. "Of course I did, Lieutenant. I value your opinion very highly."

Hank looked even more shocked than before, his expression becoming curious and gentle as he looked at Connor. Connor looked back, examining his eyes and his lips as Hank did in return. 

"I've just thought about something I want, Lieutenant," Connor said slowly.

Hank blinked as if returning to himself and smirked. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

Connor placed a hand between them and leaned on it, shifting his body to face Hank's. 

"I'd like to kiss you," he said. Hank seemed to stop breathing for a second, so Connor placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He pushed gently and Hank exhaled, shaky and unsure. When Hank said nothing, Connor leaned forward, his eyes falling from Hank's blue eyes to his mouth, hanging slightly open as he stared up at Connor in disbelief. 

Connor knew this was his only chance to take it back, pretend it never happened, and he almost did. But then he saw Hank staring at his own mouth with an obvious hunger, felt the palpitations in his heart and saw the sweat bead on his forehead, observed the way his eyes dilated. The signs of arousal were too clear to deny, so he leaned in and gently closed his mouth over Hank's. Hank breathed softly into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed. Connor leaned back a second to bring his legs over Hank's, straddling him in place and putting his hands around his face, leaning down and kissing again. Hank's hands fluttered against Connor's sides, wanting to touch but not daring to. Connor found this ridiculous; he grabbed one of Hank's hands and placed it firmly on his side, his skin rippling at the warm and solid touch. Hank left his hand there, unsure, but he at least brought the other one to Connor's waist, squeezing as if to hold on.

Connor deepened his kiss, flicking his tongue against Hank's lips and analyzing Hank's supper. Hank moaned, his mouth falling open, and Connor took the opportunity to explore inside, his hands curling around his head and sinking into his hair. Experimentally, he ground his crotch into Hank's, startling back as Hank groaned in pleasure, putting his head down and squeezing his eyes shut. Connor wasn't sure how to describe the way this made him feel, but it was better than anything he'd felt before. He did the same movement again, thrilling at the way Hank's hands clenched around his waist and picked Hank's chin up to look at his face. He had never seen the Lieutenant looking so vulnerable, yet so aggressive like he was holding himself back from tearing into Connor. Connor continued to grind his hips against Hank's, placing his mouth desperately back onto his, a strange urgency filling his thoughts. He had to have him closer, had to see more. Thoughts of Hank's naked body flashed clear across his mind, and he found himself reaching his hands up his shirt, coursing his fingers through his hair, delighting in its softness. 

Hank grabbed his arms and pulled his hands out of his shirt. Connor put them back up to his face, trying to deepen their kiss, desperation making him ignore Hank tugging his hands away.

"Stop," he said, breath heavy. 

Connor sat back, feeling just as out of breath even though his lungs were only decoration. He climbed quickly off of Hank and stood, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back. Hank pushed forward to put his elbows on his knees, leaning his forehead against his knuckles as he tried to gather himself, but Connor could still see the bulge of his erection against his pants. Connor dropped to his knees in front of Hank, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. 

"Please, Hank," he said softly. "Let me."

Hank looked up at him, something sad and hungry darkening his expression. "You don't want this," he said, shaking his head.

Connor slid his hand up to grab Hank's. He turned the hand around, watching Hank's expression as he watched their hands, captivated. Connor brought Hank's hand to his face, kissing the knuckles softly, never taking his eyes off Hank.

Hank didn't need any more convincing. He grabbed Connor's face, pressing his lips angrily into Connor's. Connor returned the kiss just as desperately as the Lieutenant, clutching the front of his shirt for support, slowly climbing back up to put him between his legs again. Hank was having no more of the passive kissing, as he grabbed Connor by his ass and pushed himself to his feet. Connor clutched his neck and tightened his legs around the Lieutenant, pressing fervent kisses into his neck as Hank carried them into the bedroom. 

"Fuck," Hank breathed as he pushed through the door.

Connor ignored him and tried to connect their mouths again, but Hank tossed him onto the bed, stopping to look down at him, chest moving up and down heavily. Connor stayed where he was thrown, still and silent as Hank examined him. 

"Are you sure, Connor?" Hank asked again. "This is what you want?"

Connor pushed himself up and stripped his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. He crawled over the sheets and grabbed the waistband of Hank's pants, pulling him towards him. 

"Lieutenant," he said, voice level and calm as always. "I don't like having to repeat myself."

Hank allowed Connor to drag the shirt over his head, then closed back in on him, fingers tracing down bare skin, lips hungrily devouring each other. Connor reached a hand down Hank's pants, clutching at his throbbing erection and tugging gently on it. Hank hissed and thrust into his hand, teeth scraping at Connor's lips as his weight pressed down on him, warm and demanding, filling Connor with a satisfaction he didn't know was possible. With a little effort, he pushed Hank off of him and onto his back, leaning over his bare chest to press kisses along his neck, over his collarbones, and down his chest. He stopped to kiss the hands that ran through his hair and made his way down to where Hank's crotch was aching and slick. He pulled the grey fabric back and held Hank's penis up to the light, analyzing it even as he ran a hand over the shaft. Hank writhed under his touch, swearing between each moan. Connor waited until Hank was looking back down at him before sliding his mouth over Hank's tip, something electric fluttering down his limbs at the sight. 

"Fuck me, I don't even know where that mouth has been," Hank moaned, putting a hand over his eyes but not moving to stop Connor. 

Connor lifted his head. "My biocomponents self-sanitize regularly if that's what you're saying. I can assure you that I am quite clean."

Hank swore and looked down at Connor impatiently. "Well, don't stop, then."

Connor obeyed, closing his eyes and letting the rhythm control him as he bobbed up and down, savoring the feel, the tremble of Hank under his hands, the sounds he made when Connor hit an especially sensitive spot. It didn't take long for Hank to come into Connor's mouth, arching back with the strength of it as he cried out. Connor closed his mouth around the cum, planning to spit it out into the sink. He stood while Hank recovered, stepping to the door. 

"What-where're you going?" Hank said, sitting up deliriously. 

Connor pointed at his mouth in an answer and stepped through the door to the bathroom, spitting the sticky substance down the drain and wiping his mouth. Hank appeared in the mirror behind him, circling his arms around Connor and kissing his neck. Connor leaned into him, closing his eyes to feel Hank's hands drag down his skin, rough and wanting. Hank reached down, putting a hand over Connor's own crotch, but Connor stopped him before he could reach inside. 

"That is not necessary, Lieutenant," he said, pushing Hank's hand back up to his stomach.

"What?" Hank squinted at him in the mirror. "Don't you want me to return the favor? Or-" he stopped himself, glancing down at Connor's crotch, eyes widening. "Do you even have..."

Connor turned around to face him uncertainly. "I can go get one if you'd like."

Hank stared at him, blinking. 

Connor tilted his head. "They're detachable."

Hank stared, then put his head down and started to laugh. "That's one way to ruin the mood."

He turned away, leaving Connor to follow after him. He went back into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed with a sigh.

"I can't believe this," he said, rubbing his face in his hands and chuckling a little manically.

Connor stopped at the doorway, unsure of what to do. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he said automatically. "I didn't intend to-"

"Oh, shut up and get over here," Hank said, flinging an arm open in invitation. 

Connor stepped cautiously over until he was close enough for Hank to grab him and pull him down. Hank pulled the sheets over the two of them, putting an arm around Connor's shoulders and pulling his head onto his chest. Connor let him, feeling like a doll being positioned, but he quickly relaxed, resting his ear over where Hank's heart still beat fast and hard. 

"This feels wrong on so many levels," Hank admitted, covering his eyes with a hand. Connor looked up at him with concern.

"If you're having regrets-" he began, but Hank waved that away.

"No, hell no," he admitted. "But, you know, aside from you being an android and me a human, you're way younger than me. It's just hard to get used to."

Connor rested his head back on Hank's chest. "If the age difference concerns you, then you should know I was activated in August of 2038, making me less than a year old. At what age do you think this would be more appropriate?"

Hank groaned. "You aren't helping, Connor."

Connor smiled and traced a finger in a triangle over Hank's chest.


End file.
